


Wish I Could Turn Back Time

by blondebadwolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Daddy Dean, M/M, Teacher Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6478387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondebadwolf/pseuds/blondebadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Winchester is pulling a Parent Trap. Though could it really be considered Parent Trap if only one of them is her actual parent, she doesn't have a twin, and she is the reason they broke up in the first place?</p><p>Parent Trap or not, Emma is attempting to piece something back together she broke when she was a child. She only hopes Castiel still loves her father after all the years gone by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish I Could Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I have had this on my computer for around a year and a half now. Actually, before I ever even started my tumblr. This is going to be a four part fic. And I wanted to thank my beta- tumblr is captainbunnicula; and A03 is captainbunnicula (kradarua). She wrote Oracle- which is a freaking work of art and should be read by all. Also she took this and seriously worked it hardcore for me. She is the Goddess of Grammar.

_ _

 

_Children ask for ridiculous things. Forget Beauty and the Beast, that’s the real tale as old as time, they ask to be princesses and ninjas.They ask for a world where magical creatures bring them presents. They demand automatic answers and understanding to the world around them without having to actually learn or study. They ask for answers to the question why._

_They ask for ponies and tigers, not understanding the responsibilities associated with both creatures. They ask for meals comprised entirely of candy, and days of no homework. They ask for toys at the grocery store, ignoring the over-marked price tag. Sometimes they ask too much. They don’t understand the constraints of time, effort, money, or even worldly limitations._

_But as every parent knows: no is always the hardest to say, even when it’s the right answer._

 

“Professor Novak?”

He looked up from his desk and Emma marveled, not for the first time today, at how much he looked like he used to. The years hadn’t changed much; except for the silver streaks in his hair and the heavy lines around his mouth, he was very much the man from her memories. His eyes were less jovial, and his sweater a blue chunky thing with obscene stars all over it, looked less mystical and fantastic than it had when she had looked at it through seven-year-old eyes. In fact, now it looked tacky and ill fitting.

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“I….. uh….” Now that she was actually here Emma didn’t know where to start. She’d always been quick on her feet when the stakes were low. She could con her way into good grades and out of police tickets at the drop of a hat. But with so much on the line she had no semblance of a plan of action. How fitting.

_Because the world is filled with no’s and explanations to “why not”, children are used to being turned down. And at a young age they are prepared to defend their demands. A child can sense with the answer no is coming, and exactly how to turn that no into a yes. Heaven help the person who denies a child._

_And despite all their reasons children feel justified to demand, to want. They feel strongly that it is their right to ask for anything their heart desires. Even if that demand would cause themselves or someone else discomfort, they are still capable of understanding only their own needs._

“Is it about an assignment?” Something in his soft smile gives away the pity he feels for her. Pity was something she could work with, and when he was practically feeding a script to her of the confused student she decided to play with the role given.

“Um no, actually it’s about today's lecture. I wanted to make sure I understood the finer points of it all. If you have time, I mean.”

“Normally students are supposed to talk with their assigned TAs in their lab hours if they have any questions.” Crap. Maybe playing student wasn’t an option. But as if he could sense her desperation, Mr. Novak motioned to the seat in front of him. “But I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t talk now.”

Emma sat in the seat by the desk. It was a rickety chair with no cushion and it felt like one of the legs was either broken, or purposely made shorter than the other three. Every motion sent the chair shaking loudly. Professor Novak patiently waited for her to begin, folding and refolding his hands on the desk methodically. And when she didn’t voice any questions or concerns he opened his mouth and hesitated. But then came a head tilt and a knowing look, filled with warmth she knew she didn’t deserve. “I get the feeling this isn’t a question of understanding as much of a need to delve deeper into the content.

 

_Sometimes she wished she knew what it was that she had really asked for. Sometimes she wished he had said no. But most of the time she wished she could remember even asking for it at all._

_“Dean are you really this stupid?”_

_“Let it go, Sam.”_

_“Seriously man? I’ve seen you do a lot of dumb things, but this?”_

_Emma could see her uncle Sam towering over her father from where she was hiding in the doorway. She was supposed to be asleep, but her throat itched so she had snuck downstairs with the intention of asking her father for some water. But seeing the grumpy adults posturing around each other kept her from barging in. She was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t get answers if she asked why her daddy was wearing the pinched expression, or why Uncle Sammy was using his outside voice._

  _“Cas is the best thing to happen to you and if you think-“_

  _“You think I don’t know that!” The silence that echoed through the house was  even louder  than the yelling seconds before._

_“You think I don’t know that….. “ She heard her dad trail off._

_“Then why Dean? Why are you doing this? To you? To him?”_

 

_“Emma.”_

 

_“So? She’s seven Dean.”_

 

_Seven and a half, actually._

 

_“You don’t understand, man. She…. I can’t say no to her okay.”_

 

_“You say no to her all the time. You just told her she couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner.”_

 

_“That’s different. I’m not letting her rot her teeth out, or get some infection because all she eats is sugar.”_

 

_“How is this different? She’s a kid Dean. She doesn’t know what it means.”_

 

_Emma really had no idea why they were talking about her. But it sounded like she was in trouble for something, so the last thing she wanted to do was show her face._

 

_“She wants normal, Sam.”_

 

_“After having you as a father, she should know that isn’t an option.”_

 

_“I’m not joking. She wants normal. Her mom is dead, she has no grandparents, hell she doesn’t even have a real house. She has to live in an apartment with her uneducated mechanic father. If she wants one thing to be normal, Sammy, I gotta give it to her.”_

 

_“So, what, you’re going to give up love and a life with a man that you genuinely want because your seven-year-old daughter asked you to act straight? You are going to throw away your chance at happiness because she-“_

 

_“Emma is my happiness. End of discussion.”_

 

The content. Of the lecture,yes.

 

The lecture had been an epiphany in and of itself. Emma had hoped that when she walked through the doors to the lecture hall, it would all have turned out to be for naught. That when Mr. Novak walked through the door he would be an utter dick or a tit, maybe even thrown a book at a student for good measure. Anything drastic like that so she could have walked out, shaking her head and thinking “No, I was right all those years ago.”

 

What she didn’t expect was the overwhelming sense of dread and understanding to slot into place. As Mr. Novak circled around the class, he held himself like a scholar but listened to his students like an equal. He asked for opinions as if he honestly couldn’t come up with an answer. And because of this, the students seemed to have an easy rapport with him. They talked eagerly over each other comfortably, knowing that there was no such thing as a wrong answer. There was a structure to the lesson: a clumsily written “Love and Loss” titled the board, under which sat names that Emma presumed were characters from their readings. But Mr. Novak let the class take the discussion wherever they pleased, not even complaining when it took a sharp left while two students argued over whether David and Jonathan's relationship in the bible had homosexual undertones. And because he was blunt and honest, they were quick to ask him his own opinion on… well, anything.

 

“Do you think that there are any love stories from today's day and age that could hold a candle to the ones we study from years ago?” A student from the back had asked.

 

“There might be, but I haven’t come across them yet.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Look,” He ran a hand through his hair and gave the class a sheepish smile. “This is just my opinion, so don’t take it as gospel. I just….  In these love stories, we see people having to fight every essences of themselves.  Lancelot at war with his idea of a good knight, Juliet trying to define herself as something other than a Montague, Jane questioning her own religious convictions, even Darcy trying to fight societies expectations because of his monetary value.”

 

Cas started walking back in forth in front of the first row of seats looking at all the students as he spoke. Emma expected at least one person to shift under his gaze, or quickly turn off their phone when given his full attention- but he already had the entire room engaged. “But today….. well, today people are trying so hard to define themselves. But it’s less for the sake of themselves and more about finding love. We spend  time trying to create ourselves, but then  like chameleons we shift to be whatever the person we love wants us to be. We buy labels, or knockoffs if we don’t have the money, we boast about loving things, about trends, all in the hopes that someone who likes those same things will find us, even if we don’t really care one way or another.. For example,”

 

He turned to Emma, who had tried to blend in as much as possible, sitting as inconspicuously as she could in the fifth row in a class of hundreds.

 

“Your shirt.” She looked down at the worn Led Zeppelin shirt that had been passed down to her. Since she was on a mission for her father, she had subconsciously dressed like him to give her comfort. The shirt was faded from so many years of wearing it to bed, and from all the times her daddy had wrapped her up in it, even when it was more of a dress than a shirt. All the heartbreaks she’d weathered through in it, accompanied by a pair of sweats, and a gallon of ice cream. The shirt that always made her father smile when he saw her in it. That morning she had tucked it into her skirt and black booties, a combination of comfort and class. She had even worn her fancy green cargo jacket over it that she had bought because of how much it reminded her of her fathers matching jacket in his closet.  

 

“Right now it’s tradition for stores like Target to sell shirts with old bands your generation has never even listened to. And you continue to wear them, not because you like the band but because you want to label yourself as some old vintage soul. Can you name a song from Led Zeppelin?”

 

Emma felt a smile betraying her, but as it was best not to draw too much attention she quickly tried to divert the attention. “Sir, I think you may not want me to,”

 

“Humor me.”

 

“Fine. _The Song Remains the Same_ , _Trampled Underfoot_ , _I’m Gonna Leave You_ .” After a second she added “ _Thank You_.” And just like that she saw it, the flash on Castiel’s face. He remembered. He remembered it all. Which was a good sign because it meant she stood a chance, but it was also sort of a slap in the face.  Cas schooled his expression back to the fun-loving teacher.

 

“Guess I walked right into that one. I would have been impressed with just _Stairway to Heaven_ or _Black Dog_.”

 

“I tried to warn you sir.”

 

“That you did. I’m glad you proved me wrong though. Proof that teachers shouldn’t attempt to teach their own opinions.”

 

“Wait sir, so you are saying real love doesn’t exist anymore?” A boy from the middle of the classroom yelled out.

 

Castiel’s gaze went back to Emma’s shirt. Dammit he wasn’t a tit at all. “No, it does. I have no doubt it does. I’m saying my favorite love stories aren’t about people creating themselves based on another person. I favor stories of sacrifice, stories that make people wonder who they truly are with or without love.”

 

_Had she been older, she might have known the repercussions, but she didn’t ever even fully understand what she had asked for. So when life changed, she didn't take notice of it. As a seven-year-old girl, she was more interested in whether or not she could boast about the same toys her friends had, or what she was going to play during recess. An earthquake shifted the ground she walked on, but it wasn’t her world that was left in pieces._

 

_But other people saw. For years after Uncle Sam had made her watch Birdcage over and over again, despite it’s questionable content for a child of her age._

 

_“Don’t you think the son is being selfish? How do you think this story would have gone if he had just been honest with everyone?” He would croon at the television._

 

_But Emma just remembered how funny the ending was when everyone dressed in drag. While Sam was trying to fix her wrong, she was becoming enamored with makeup, because she had no female figures with whom to feed this curiosity._

 

_But even a child isn’t oblivious. There were signs, signs that she had no idea how to piece together. Her father wouldn’t let her listen to the song ‘Thank You’ anymore, Despite the fact that it had been on repeat in the weeks before that. Her father was always eager to hear her sing, always attending the “Famous Shows” that she would put on with her plastic microphone and boa, present from her Uncle Bobby. But even when she donned her sparkliest tiara and sang it at the top of her lungs, he would ask her to stop. Years later, that is the thing she remembered._

 

_“It was their song,” Sam confirmed for her, much later in life, now that it was too late to teach her lessons through movies and hints. “Your father used to try and sneak up on Cas and yell it into his ear at random moments just to see if he would jump.” And as soon as he said that, another puzzle piece clicked in her head._

 

_She remembered sitting at a stool in the kitchen, playing Uno with Castiel. His mouth was turned down in concentration, and Emma couldn’t keep her smile off of her face. He had half the deck in his hands, and another draw 4 in front of him. He was blinking at the cards as if willing them to explain why he sucked so much at a simple children's card game. And right as Emma opened her mouth to whine that he was taking too long, she saw her father creep back into the kitchen behind him. She watched her father put a finger to his lips, a sign to Emma of what was going to happen, and Emma tried to school her features into a neutral expression.Her body felt like it was going to explode in a fit of premature giggles and anticipation. Her mouth kept creeping upwards as her father got closer to his target._

 

_“FOR YOU TO ME ARE THE ONLY ONE!”_

 

_At that moment, the billions of cards in Castiel’s hands went flying in the air like confetti. The bright colors of the cards seemed to glow in the warmth of the room. The more her father laughed, tears in his eyes, his chest heaving, the more Emma laughed. She laughed until she couldn’t breathe. Long after the shocked expression in Castiel’s eyes had turned to one of playful anger. Her father and Castiel seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes, and if there was one thing Emma hated it was losing her father’s attention. She also missed being part of the joke, of the laughter._

 

_“HAPPINESS, NO MORE BE SAD!” Emma sang, continuing the song where her father had left off, and he joined her in singing. Soon her father was picking her up and twirling her around the kitchen. They sang, and dammit if the memory, the three of them singing a song they all knew too well for a short amount of time, didn’t ring discordant in her ears now._

 

_She remembered._

 

And he remembered. Not her, if the blank expression he gave her was anything to go by,but he remembered the song, the band, the man that held them together. She knew he did. And if she hadn’t already been leaning towards believing she had fucked up, she knew it now.

 

“So, what is your favorite love story?” One student quizzed, after a long discussion of whether or not _Withering Heights_ was truly a romance or a warning tale.

 

“The Little Mermaid.” Castiel answered quickly. Even Emma had to admit this took her by surprise.

 

“What about not changing yourself for another person?” One boy, who had appeared to be asleep for most of the lesson piped up, his head leaving the desk beneath him for the first time that period.

 

“I didn’t say it was the Disney version. I am not going to start combing my hair with a fork thank you.”

 

“Isn’t it the same?”

 

Cas’s face was steely, clearly affronted. “No.”

 

“But it’s still about a mermaid becoming human.” A girl in the front row argued.

 

“That’s like saying the animated Anastasia is textbook history. Word to the wise, if anyone uses the Disney version of a fairytale as a reference on your essay, I will judge you accordingly.”

 

“Well what’s the difference?”

 

“In the Disney version our little redhead is a spoiled brat who wants to be a human so badly that she is willing to put her family at risk. She trusts an octopus witch who she knows her father has a personal vendetta towards, all so she can go to shore to get away from her hard life as underwater royalty. She tell her family about her genius plan, gets tricked, and then somehow after everyone else has sacrificed for her, she gets her happy ending. ”

The room was silent as the students all looked between each other.

 

“...Tell us your true feelings.”

 

“Gladly.” Emma had a feeling he hadn’t understood the sarcasm.

 

“And in the original?” The same student in the back asked.

 

“I am told that would be called spoilers. And I am loath to ruin such an ending for you..”

 

The class collectively groaned, obviously not eager to acquire any more work than required.

“Can we just spark-note it?”

 

“Just tell us the differences!” someone whined.

 

Cas looked around at the students before sighing and sitting on the desk in front of him to face the class. “The difference is that the princess in the original isn’t foolish or selfish. She loves her family. Who can’t relate to that?” Cas looks around the class, silent for the first time since Emma walked through the door. “Yes, something about humans and the man she keeps seeing draws her towards their world like an invisible string, and fate, bastard that it is, puts her in a tricky position. Her man falls overboard, and in that moment she makes her hamartia: she risks her life to save him. And save him she does, but he will never remember.”

 

Cas folded his hands in his lap. “She got to have him for moments, only to have to give him up. And this memory haunts her, so she does something about it. She makes a deal with a sea witch, but the sea witch doesn’t trick her. No, from the get-go the terms are spelled out plainly in front of her. Her tongue will be cut off rendering her mute, every step of her feet will feel like knives, and the worst part? Unless she can get the prince to marry and worship her, she will give up her next hundreds of years and instead die and become nothing more than foam upon the sea.

 

“But, if he proves his love to her, she will not only have him but be given the chance of an eternal human soul. No one else is at risk in this deal, there are no ulterior motives. And she makes the decision that the risk is worth it. She takes a chance, in the hopes that she will be able to have eternal life and love because she can’t live with not knowing. And while the witch is telling her point blank it will have a terrible ending and she will be miserable.”

 

“And is she?” Emma can’t help herself from asking.

 

“Yes.” Another girl in the class answers. “She is.”

 

“How is that a good love story?” Emma couldn’t help but agree with the question.

 

“What happens to the prince?”

 

“He falls in love with another girl, the one he thought rescued him,” Another voice supplies from the back.

 

“Wait, you mean he doesn’t end up with the main chick?”

 

“No.” Castiel confirms.

 

“Yeah, how is this nice?”

 

Emma wondered the same, as she watched Castiel walk around the room, patiently listening to all the questions and holding the classroom under his spell as he told the story.

 

“Because at the wedding for the couple, even though her feet feel like she is standing on shards of broken glass with each movement, the little mermaid dances a dance for them because he asks her to. She dances and smiles, knowing that come morning she will be dead forever with no chance of an afterlife. She pretends to be happy because she wants him to be happy.”

 

“Don’t her sisters try to help or something?”

 

“Yes, her sisters come to her and tell her that they sold their hair in exchange for her freedom from the deal.. The only catch is that she has to stab the prince in his marriage bed. Right?” a girl asks, and the whole room is looking at Cas, riveted. It  isn’t Cas who answers, but a young man in the front row.

 

“Right. And she goes into the room to do it. After all, if she kills him his soul will live on forever because he’s human. Her existence will be gone. She could live for three hundred more years if she just kills the loser. But she throws the knife overboard, and herself with it.”

 

“Can you imagine being in her shoes?” Cas blinked, not looking at any particular person but instead like he was seeing the little mermaid in front of him. Like he could see her at the moment she posed the knife over the love of her life, and the moment she threw it and her future into the roaring ocean. Like he can see her heartbroken expression, like he can witness her grief.

 

“She risked everything to be with this man, this man she truly has come to love more than she did when she made the deal,” he continued. “She has spent every day with this man as his confidant, his friend. And she has to see him happy in the arms of a woman who is credited for saving his life. All that hurt, whirling around inside of her, can you imagine? The story focuses a lot on her desire to live eternally being a big motivation for her, but at that moment she has seconds left and she makes a choice. She wants to be with this man, and she can’t have that. She also wants to live, and his life is only thanks to her, who would care if she took it away? But the thing she wants most, is for this man to be happy. So, in her last seconds, she kisses the new wife’s forehead because she loves the man so much she wishes happiness upon his love even if it couldn't be her.”

 

Cas let out a small smile. “That is true love to me. Being willing to sacrifice anything it takes to see the other person happy. Walking away, even if you know you will be miserable the rest of your life.”

 

And isn’t that just the clincher?

 

_Sam didn’t just tell her outright. Maybe he didn’t want her to have to live with that guilt. Maybe he didn’t want to betray Dean by bringing it up, but regardless Emma had no memory of her request. She had few memories of Cas, a man that was there for only months of her life. And life went on without him._

 

_It wasn’t until years later that he helped her piece it all together._

 

_“Okay, we need to set Dad up on a date.”_

 

_Uncle Sam just looked up from his frozen yogurt and looked to where Emma was watching her Aunt Jess and her father argue jokingly over something or another in the kitchen._

 

_“What?” He asked, rather inelegantly with some of the yogurt dribbling out of his mouth as he spoke, despite the fact she knew he heard and understood her._

 

_“He’s lonely. I’m off to college and who is going to keep him company?”_

 

_“Pretty sure he’s had company long before you came along.” Sam laughed. And sure, she knew Dad always had Sam but that was different._

 

_“I don’t know. I don’t understand it. You know? He can’t mourn over mom forever. Sometimes he just gets this sad look on his face, like he’s missing her. Like he’s remembering something about her. Like no one could ever touch her. Hell, she died like fifteen years ago and he’s never had anyone since then.”_

 

_It was then, the small constipated look on Sam’s face that let her know she was wrong._

 

_“Wait, there has been someone?”_

 

_Emma racked her brain to remember her father going on more than one date with someone ever. Sure, she remembered a lot of women and sometimes men approaching them in grocery stores that would mention spending time with her father, but Dean would quickly maneuver around them until they were out of the store. And he never spoke about it, or them. When she got older she realized her father wasn’t a monk and it was to be expected, but she always wondered why she had late nights with Sam babysitting her and only knew people in passing. Her father’s “friends” never had the opportunity to say more than ten words to her._

 

_But as Emma stood in Sam’s kitchen, she couldn’t piece together one face that stood out from all the public encounters. But she knew there had to be if his expression that plainly said he was beating himself up for letting the cat out was anything to go by. For some reason all she could think of was old sweaters with bees on them._

 

Mr. Novak cleared his throat, and it brought Emma back to reality. She was sitting at a desk, in an empty classroom. There was no bee embroidery in sight but the things he did have on his sweater… well really he should have been ashamed.

 

What had he asked?

 

Oh yeah, about going deeper into the material.

 

“Um yes. I…uh. It’s not about a test. It’s more….”

 

His eyes were so comforting. As nervous as she was, and she was really fucking nervous, she felt like it would all be okay. Even if she blurted out all her dirty secrets Castiel would simply soothe them away. And she had to grip the broken chair hard to keep from telling him about the times she cheated on tests or egged ex boyfriends’ cars.

 

“It’s okay. Sometimes the conversation of love and loves past awakens a need to discuss further things people can’t quite grasp.”

 

His voice was deep, but not angry deep.

 

“Have you ever been in love?” Emma watched his face carefully. She was torn between the answers she wanted. On one hand if he said no she could walk away again guilt free. She could pack up and say “Dad’s better off.” And that would somehow relieve her. But on the other hand, she wanted to hear that her father was worth loving. That the man he loved remembered him and that she stood a chance in her endeavor.

 

“Once.”

 

Like earlier, when he was seeing a mermaid instead of his class, Emma was watching him make her father appear in the room. She could tell by his facial expression alone that Dean was in there with him. That Cas could see him clear as day. She knows what her father has grown into, but Cas probably sees him more often, a ghost in his mind that has both haunted and comforted him.

 

“Is it… Was it…Do you think you can go back?”

 

And just like that Cas has let the ghost go back to it’s place in his memories. His focus is solely on her. “Go back?”

 

“Yes. Like, if you loved someone, do you believe you could fall in love again?”

 

“I’m not quite sure I understand. This is about a personal matter, yes?”

 

Goddamnit. Why couldn’t she get the freaking words out? She had practiced speech after speech in her mirror beforehand. About second chances, words that could make any two grumpy people remember what love was and get together. And here, in front of Castiel, all she could do was flounder and pull at semblances of speeches she’d concocted in practice.

 

“I don’t think you could ever just jump back in.”

 

“No, but do you believe that a person could have one true love, that never dies?”

 

Cas’ back stiffened. “If you are propositioning me I feel the need to let you know that I don’t date students.”

 

Okay time for the truth to come out. “I’m not a student, I’m…”

 

“I also don’t date people more than ten years my junior, or women for that matter. So while your advances are flattering-”

 

Shit. Could this be any more awkward? Now her father’s ex believed she was propositioning him of all things.

 

“No, no. God no. No, I mean, you talked all about sacrifice and stuff, right? I just…There is someone… what if they….Do you believe someone could love someone from their past, even years after they are gone?”

 

“Yes, I do. That’s why I teach a subject like love, I suppose. We all like to dive into daydreams or relive the moments of love we’ve experienced.”

 

Hell, if that didn’t cut straight through Emma’s fucking chest.

 

“And if you could be reunited….would you?”

 

“I am afraid I don’t understand the question.” That was a yes.

 

“My name is Emma.”

 

Castiel tilted his head, his eyes scrunched up. Probably tired from trying to follow all of her strange conversation twists and turns.

 

“Hello Emma?”

 

“We’ve actually met before. Emma Winchester.”

 

And his eyes didn’t flash with recognition or surprise. No, that would be too easy. Instead they flashed with something Emma was certain one only saw on animals’ faces when they thought they were about to get kicked or hit by a car. She saw a fear etched with a decade of sadness.

 

“Hello, Emma.”

 


End file.
